


Misplaced in Time

by Fallenfae



Series: Warriors shipfics [9]
Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Character Death, Death, F/M, Immortality, Immortals, Mental Anguish, Psychological Drama, Slow Burn, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:00:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27694502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fallenfae/pseuds/Fallenfae
Summary: Wandering through endless corridors, forever isolated - it's a dreary expirience. But when your routine is broken up by a newcomer, you tend to find yourself at wits end to figure them out...Fallen leaves has been in the tunnels as long as he can remember, and Hollyleaf is a welcome change; but she certainly isn't forever, and he has to learn to move on.
Relationships: Fallen Leaves/Hollyleaf (Warriors)
Series: Warriors shipfics [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1887913
Kudos: 8





	1. Gates of time creak open

Another one joined us recently.

It's been a while, hasn't it? I'd almost expected the stream of wanderers to stop since the last one, and the large gap in between new arrivals almost confirmed my beliefs that the traditions of these tunnels had withered away with time. 

It's always interesting getting a new arrival; you can see yourself in them and almost vicariously get to live that same experience of getting sent in here. While it's not something most of us would particularly like to do, considering just how horrible the experience is - but it is sort of a reminder of just how far you've come, I suppose. 

When she first came in, I was there. I saw the look on her face, that damn look that every arrival has on their face when they enter into this new world for the first time. It's the awareness of uncertainty paired with the refusal to accept it. I couldn't help but notice though, that this cat in particular was just a little different. Perhaps it was just the time difference, though her eyes had hardly wandered since entering. Always on the ground.

The first day is always the worst, and then the next several days aren't much better. You sort of exist in a strange stage of limbo for a while, while you go through the denial. I don't think she ever had hope. And while I must admit I never quite knew her reasoning for entering this hellhole - especially through a non-entrance, she did somewhat graze over the stages all of us went through, just barely.

...I'm damn near the only one left.

When one is condemned to a life of wandering through endless tunnels, forced to relive, to reconsider, to realize every mistake and decision you've made with no real promise of escape, you cling for a taste of death. And the other cats - the ones like me, restless and practically immortal; the line between our lives and deaths blurred so greatly that I bet that if I'd gone around asking each one of us when exactly they'd died, none would have a certain answer. Time simply did not exist here.

Not much of us spoke. We hardly offered one another eye contact. The naive newer arrivals would always attempt to converse with the others, but each ghost would wave them off. None of us felt comfortable around the other, even old friends drifted away. The static buzz of each of our minds grew greater, greater than friendship, too. But when one of us decides unspokenly to exit this unholy place, we spare consoling glances. And that's that.

I don't know exactly what happens on the other side - on the outside of these endless corridors. I've never seen it myself, nor come close enough to find out. I imagine it being a terrifying experience; and while I've been stuck here for countless moons, I do remember quite a lot for my age. What scorches into my memory most is the sun. I can see it in the cracks of the stone, and I know it is barely a fragment of the real thing out there. A terrifying thought. To once leave this dark cavern with endless twists and turns be scorched alive by the unforgiving sun. Living cats do make me wonder just how they could withstand it.

That she-cat sure liked lying on the sun soaked stones, though.

I could tell that all her senses and expectations were in the old world, the one she came from. She was searching for something that didn't exist anymore, fighting the nothingness met by your expectations. That's the hardest part. Coming to terms with the change. And until you've come to terms with being isolated and confined from your previous world, you definitely haven't come anywhere close to figuring out how to be okay with it.

I don't know why she's here. I can tell she's not one of us - not by blood. And if the time frame wasn't enough, she wasn't here because of that old hag hell guardian. The furless freak, wishing us off to death without a droplet of care. It wasn't his job to care - and neither is it mine. But if she did not come for assessment, or in search of the crone, then there was no other proper reason. She'd wander for days on end with no rest nor food, and there was no rhyme or reason. 

One day, I came across her staring out one of the exits. I wondered for a moment if she'd finally had enough. If she'd gotten bored, if she found what she was looking for. She left, and I felt alone that day. More so than most days.

Whilst I was never really accompanied by anyone, I suppose I'd found comfort in her presence. We never spoke. She never prompted me, and I never acted on my interests. I hardly know if she noticed me at all - perhaps she thought of me as a simple hallucination, or she was imagining better futures. Whatever better was by her standards, anyway. The comfort of her lingering presence was torn away now that I knew for certain she was gone.

Now all that was left was these dull, gray walls and the ghosts that haunted them, and the choking grasp of hopelessness. She didn't care to leave her essence, either. All I had was the memory or black fur and green eyes, and all I could do was imagine the conversations we would have if circumstances were different. I imagined she had a family out in the unknown, and I'd grown quite fond of the idea that she was a mother to one son, perhaps living alone in a lush garden and spending time together. I hadn't had the slightest idea as to _why_ the idea was so niche. Maybe that's what I wanted, had I never been trapped here.

I saw that dreaded furless tyrant again. I suppose I shouldn't complain; I was the one to seek him out this time. The old mole. I found him, of course, where I expected him to be. Right at the entrance. He guarded this hell, and he would do it all through his immortal life span. It was what he was made for. This cat was a husk devoid of any personality, any true wisdom, and the only thing at his ghastly core was being Satan's cerberus. He did not let us leave back the way we came.

I returned to this route every so often to see the change. The moss that'd grown, the new cracks splintering through the stone, the paw prints long since imprinted in the dirt. The crone hardly ever acknowledged me, but I know he felt my presence. There was no use in spooking him.

"What do you want coming back here again?" He croaked, his bulging eyes shutting closed as he took an unsteady, shaky breath. I did not respond. There was no need to. He knew as well as I what I wanted here. With a sigh, he shook his head, ears drooping. I urged him with a tap of my tail against his to go on, and he did not take heed lightly.

"I doubt you're ready," he grumbled, barely twisting his head to meet his garrish eyes with mine. I did not mind it much, as I found no use in eye contact with a blind cat. "You get your chance only once. Many more foolish than you have been careless to use it before their times. Don't follow in their footsteps."

With a silent sigh I squinted my eyes and let my gaze wander to the entrance from which I'd come all those moons ago. It was like staring at a daydream. I preferred not to stick around.

I hadn't been lucky this time, either. Not enough to score a visit to the overworld. A ghost down here could only do it once, and I hadn't used my chance - not when I had no interest in going up, anyway. I'd wanted to see this garden, the one the black she-cat lived in, even if it was only a construction in my head. I knew he was right, to not spend my time now - it would be a hasty decision. So through wistful sorrows, I parted ways with the old bodach.


	2. Heavenly touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief meeting, a prolongued longing.

She'd come back. 

I couldn't tell you exactly when. Perhaps a few days, maybe less. Time didn't exactly make itself clear down here. Though when she did, she came back with scents on her fur I'd never had the pleasure of smelling. Not in a long, long while. It was fresh - piney, in a sense. With fruit lingering in the faintest of bits. When the air in the caverns was this dull, even the slightest of fresh scents wafted through the tunnels, especially when she was making her rounds through the halls. Everything smelled just a little bit like her.

I have to say, I don't think I ever want to return to the surface. While the pain of being here is excruciating, and the days blur into moons, I can't say forming proper relationships would be any better. I can barely remember their faces now. Static and nothingness. That's all I see when I try to imagine my kin, and the only thing I can really remember is the cool air and the warmth of my nest. There isn't much left here but dry dirt and piles of stone. No nests to rest anymore. No warmth.

She didn't leave after that. Not for a while, at least. She'd wake up, I'd watch as she went about her day. I think, if she couldn't see me before, she could definitely feel me now. Maybe it's because I was with her so often. The abnormal slowly became normal again, and the only interesting part of my days was when she'd muttered something under her breath. Only for a catch of her voice.

See, these caverns are endless. And I dont mean that for their twists and turns. I mean if you'd walked through the same path for an entire day, you'd end up in a completely new area. I have no idea how far they go, as I've only gotten so far. It does make good for exploration though, and while there isn't much more than endless stone walls and dirt, there is that firey chance of new hope. At first, I thought she was just as any young fool, using these tunnels as a meet up spot, or a hiding place, or a means of transport. But when she never left, when she never turned back in fear and slept under these halls for days on end it soon was clear to me that she wasn't here for that. She was here for ulterior motives. The only reason I could think of was the moon pool stream.

Of course, these tunnels run through more than just these lake territories; they're undeniably massive - meaning they run under every tree, every rock, every body of water. The moon pool.

When I was alive, that's where I drank.

But I know these new cats think it's sacred. As long as they do, it's valuable. And word is, the water that runs down here is even more so holy that the one above. 

And what it looked like was that my suspicions were correct.

Often I wondered if her fur was really black, or if it was the darkness of the tunnels playing tricks on me. But I know for certain now, standing in the dim blue glow of the moonpool's cascading waterfall, that her fur was undeniably black. She was lithe, tall for a she-cat, and she had quite the dramatic bone structure leaving sharp shadows where the light did not hit - but she was heavenly. If I'm being honest, I half thought she was from Starclan herself. For a while, she stared at her reflection, the sparkle of the pool mirroring her image so spectacularly. She dipped her head ever so gently and lapped up at the pool, and curled up at the shallow edge of the pool, whatever she was doing.

It took a while for any movement to occur, and in that time I'd grown disinterested and half convinced myself to leave her be and find some old moping crone leaving this hellscape for the final time, but before I could, I'd heard a scuffle and a groan.

"Do they not reach down here? For fucks sake!" She yelled, slamming her paw into the still water and spraying the glistening liquid across the cave-room harshly. She sharply turned only to immediately slam into me - much to my surprise - and fell flat on the ground.

How….how did that happen? I might have my theories in retrospect, but at the time my mind was swimming with thousands of questions, and all of them were identity-threatening. That - and the final satisfaction of hearing her voice for once. Looking back, perhaps those magical properties _did_ seep through into these tunnels after all. I wasn't complaining.

It took a moment for her to regain her senses, and when she did, she simply stared. Her mouth was agape, and she looked as though she was as confused as I was, brows furrowed before she frantically placed her paw on mine just to make sure I was _really_ there. Unsure what to do and frankly terrified at the feeling of real touch for the first time in what I could only assume to be years, I just stood there, trying not to make eye contact. "Are you a Starclan cat?" She breathed, skittering up to her feet and grabbing my by the cheeks, searching for something in my eyes I still don't know of. I chuckled awkwardly, still very much disillusioned to the breaking of barriers and shook my head lightly. "Get your paws off of my face," I muffled, before adding politely, "Please." 

She blinked before pulling her paws back. "Oh gosh. Sorry. So you're in hiding too?" _Too. How peculiar._ I shook my head. "No, not really. I just…" I searched for the words. "I live here." I settled, and her eyes narrowed. "In such a ghastly place like this?"

I nodded, still unaccustomed to the familiarity of the words we spoke. "A lot more live down here than you think. As whispers to what once was. You just have to look close enough to find us." I flicked the dust off my sides with my tail, and damn near left the girl in her tracks. She stood there, jaw agape before coming to her senses and realizing I was about to oh so foolishly leave her in the dust, confused and scared and alone. She rushed to my side frantically and before I knew it her impact made us topple over one another in the tightness of walls around us, and she fell right in top of me with a grunt, effectively pinning me down belly-up. For the first time, I got a good look at her eyes.

...I could see a little blue in them, this time. They were a lot more than just green. I tried not to breathe too loudly, or let her feel my heart slamming in my chest beneath her. "What's it like out there?" I rasped dryly, just to break the silence. She narrowed her eyes, leaning forward as though trying to drink in my scent. "You're not a clan cat," she whispered. "Who are you?"

I barely thought. I hadn't been able to remember my name before - it's long since anyone has ever had any use for it. But in that moment, everything rose to the surface and I knew exactly what it was, in this strange moment of clarity. "Fallen leaves." I breathed. "That's my name."

~~~

It'd been days since she figured out who exactly I was; and although it should have been a relief, it should have been something to look forward to….to finally be able to speak with someone on their level, the fear of it outgrew the thrill. I realized something for certain. She was alive. I was dead. She had a love for her world, I had fear for every single one. She would die one day, out there, and scatter into the dust. These tunnels are simply a postponement. It'd been long since my time, and she had barely met hers yet.

She was here, sometimes. I still watched her, whenever I could. I never spoke, though, afraid to make connections I'd only feel pain for later. She'd still leave and come back as she pleased. And I still stood behind, watching for every return longingly.

~~~

"I have a family." She mumbled. "Two brothers, and broken parents. I'm not even sure who to really call my parents." Her voice would crack as she spoke, raspy with effort to keep the tears from falling. I'm not sure if she sended my presence, or she was simply speaking to the wind to keep sane. "I don't think they love me anymore. I think they've moved on..since they think I'm dead." A pause. She gathered her thoughts. "I was...so blindsighted. I thought the world revolved around me, and there was this constant weight on my shoulders to keep it going. I had to think of every possibility, every outcome to every situation…" her claws scraped against the ground beneath her in a bout of regret, a sea of memories overwhelming her every move. "I guess that isn't right anymore, huh?" She half-chuckled, a strange sound when it came from a cat so desolate and desperate."With Dovepaw around, I mean." 

A long silence pursued, and I wondered for a moment if she'd caught my scent, and my heart pounded at the thought. While I did want to hear more of this world I'd been outcasted from for so long, I didn't want my only doorway to it to be shut because she'd found me listening in. Only when she spoke again, I realized she hadn't been preoccupied with my scent, but with sniffling and crying. "...I wish I could go back."

"Then go." I don't know what came over me. A rush of blood - of adrenaline shot me to my core, and I knew I couldn't bear to see her miserable. I came out of my spot, ears tall with confidence. "Go. If they love you, they'll welcome you with open arms."

"Gosh, I _knew_ I could feel you here." She sniffed, using the back of her paw to wipe away her damp eyes. "How can I?" She breathed. "When I've let them believe I was dead for so long. They'll hate me."

"They won't," I assured her, not entirely sure if they would. "They won't hate you. You're a good cat."

She shook her head. "I'm...I'm not ready. Not now. Just a little longer." She insisted. And I let her.

_Just for a little longer._ If not for her sake, for mine.


End file.
